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“We are done,” Simon said roughly. “Let me know if you discover anything.”
As soon as Tanner left, Simon walked to the lowest level of the house where he could relieve this stress without hurting anyone. After stripping off his jacket and shirt, he put on his padded gloves and walked to the canvas bag hanging from the upstairs floor beam. As he punched the sand-filled bag, he wished Middleton was at home. The viscount loved a good pugilist fight and Simon desperately wanted one. Instead, he continued to punch the bag and think about Tanner’s words.
Mia was not involved in this affair. He was certain. He had found her out in the least occupied area of the estate. He had only gone there because he’d needed a long walk that day. She could never have known he was heading in that direction; the only person he’d told was Harris.
The servants always talk. Mia’s words haunted him. Could Harris have told someone where he was going that day? He gave the bag one more hard punch.
Mia could not possibly be involved.
Chapter 8
Mia walked the perimeter of her bedchamber feeling like a prisoner. How had Selina managed to stay hidden in the duke’s hous
e for weeks without going mad? It had been just over a week and yet, Mia felt as if the room was closing in on her. She had to get out of the house.
And she would.
There was only one problem. She still couldn’t completely bend over to put on her short boots. If one of the servants helped her, they would tell Simon that she had left the house. God, she hated feeling helpless. There was only one option left, to ask Simon to walk with her.
She walked the long length of the hall and down the stairs with no sign of him. “Mr. Harris, have you seen the earl? I had hoped to go for a stroll and thought he might like to join me.”
Harris shifted uncomfortably. “No, miss. I believe he might be busy with some items around the estate.” He checked his pocket watch. “I would wager he’ll be back up—available in an hour or two.”
“Very well, I shall wait for him in his study.”
“Yes, miss. If you would like to read while you wait, the library connects to the study.”
“Excellent thought, Mr. Harris.”
She strolled down to the study, hoping Harris was wrong and she would find him there but the room was empty. Seeing his account book, she sat to wait for him and check his figures. She opened the book and sighed.
“What a mess,” she said aloud.
There were figures marked in lead, crossed out, written over and just wrong. She started a new page in his ledger and attempted to make sense of the disaster before her. After two hours, she gasped at the figure in front of her.
“The man is almost destitute,” she whispered and then covered her mouth with her hand. The last thing she wanted was for the servants to get word of his finances. They might all leave if they thought he could possibly reduce their wages or worse, not pay them at all.
She flipped through a few pages and slowly realized what had happened. It wasn’t the earl’s miscalculations that had caused all the issues.
“What the bloody hell are you doing with my books?”
Mia looked up and gasped at the sight of Simon standing in the threshold with an irate look on his handsome face. “I—I’m sorry, my lord,” she said instinctively. “I was waiting for you to ask if you would go for a stroll with me. The book was here and I know you don’t enjoy doing the finances, so—so I thought I would assist you.”
“I do not need your assistance with my finances, Miss Featherstone.”
She shrugged and tilted her head slightly. “Actually, you do need someone’s help with your finances, my lord.” Why was she continuing to call him my lord? Weren’t they past that?
“I do not want you prying into my finances, is that understood?”
“Yes, but why?”
Simon closed his eyes and blew out a breath. He crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. “I am the earl. I will make sure the books are done correctly and accurately.”
She knew she should have let the topic rest but she also realized he was wrong. “Simon, I just looked at your math and a good portion of it was wrong. I can help you.”
He slammed the door. “I don’t need your help. I can manage my estate on my own.”
Mia fought the terror trying to take over her mind with the fury she saw on his face. Simon would never hurt her. He had promised that only a few days ago. Slowly she approached him until she could feel his heated breath on her cheek. Ignoring the biting pain in her side, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck. “Simon,” she whispered and then kissed him gently to calm him down.
